Social Psychology (3/?)
Title: Social Psychology (3/?)
Pairing: Michael Johns/David Cook
Rating: R overall; PG-13 for now
Disclaimer: Don't own them; all for fun.
Summary: "As diverse as these situations may be, they do contain one common factor: social influence."
Author's Notes: All definitions are from Elliot Aronson's book, The Social Animal. Unbetaed. Thanks to everyone who has read this so far, I really appreciate all the comments. They make me smile.
proximity: one of the major factors in determining whether we like or love someone is their physical proximity. it is more likely that we will fall in love with someone who lives near us compared to someone who lives far away
I.
David was beginning to notice the little things about Michael. Little things that would make him crinkle his nose--in a cute, god why is Michael perfect kind of way; not the kind of crinkle you make after smelling something awful. Things like the way he’d make funny faces to make the other contestants smile or the fact his accent was thickest when he was just rolling out of bed in the morning.
David should not be noticing these things. David should not find them cute.
At night, he would stare at the ceiling and turn his head to the left every so often. He’d never rest on his side to watch Michael--it was creepy, it felt dirty. He’d sigh and continue to look at the plaster above his head. David forced himself to think about girls--ex-girlfriends, playmates, and Mandy Moore. Still, for some reason, in his day dreaming, Michael would always appear out of nowhere. Groaning, he closed his eyes hoping sleep would soon take over; his mind had other plans and would not stop racing.
Five feet separated them in the tiny room. He began to think he was going insane. He debated putting a curtain up to hide Michael’s bed from view. He wondered if a thin piece of fabric would help him forget the feelings he had developed for his best friend. No, it wouldn’t work. He turned over, back towards Michael; the other man let out a soft snore.
It wasn’t just the room, or even the apartment. The remaining contestants did everything together. Press conferences, rehearsals, commercials and meals kept them occupied. There was no escaping Michael. It seemed like every second was filled with Michael Johns; he was beginning to think there could be no David Cook without including the other man.
Alone. The thought seemed so foreign at this point in the competition. He sat alone on the couch, but there were people surrounding him; conversation filled the room with a constant buzz. He tuned it out, tuned it all out. Forget, forget, forget.
It didn’t work. Moments later, he was greeted by a familiar face.
“Up for some video games, ‘mate?”
He sighed in defeat, yet smiled at the other man. “Really, you mean to say, ‘David, will you please play so I can get my ass kicked.’”
“You sir, are going down today. I practiced my Pikachu moves all last night. Lightning action will annihilate your Kirby sucking thing.”
David ignored the images ‘sucking thing’ brought to mind and picked up the controller. As soon as he sat, Michael plopped himself right next to him. Thigh pressed against thigh, arm was rubbing arm. The touch was enough of a distraction to keep him from concentrating on the game he was playing. He would glance over occasionally; he’d notice the determination in the other man’s face, and the way the simple action of pressing buttons was making little droplets of sweat form on Michael’s brow.
“Yah, so I was right about that lightning action, wasn’t I?” Michael tossed the controller onto the couch and grinned at David.
“My controller's batteries are dying.”
“Yah, likely excuse.” Michael shot a sideways glance at David, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up with you lately?” Without even looking, Michael had brought them back to the title screen. He had also managed to turn off the TV by elbowing the remote.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Oh come on, out with it. You can’t keep anything from me.”
“Seriously Mike, it’s nothing. Just tired and stressed.”
Michael looked straight into David’s eyes; David noticed how even Michael could make the most common color look unique.
Michael did not believe the lie, “Whatever you say, man. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk. Don’t make me tie you to the bed and torture you all medieval style to get it out of you though...”
David begged his groin to ignore the comment.
“When I’m ready.”
Michael seemed satisfied; he got up from the couch and playfully patted the other man’s thigh. “I’m going to go call Stace. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”
Wife. David crinkled his nose as soon as Michael turned around. It wasn’t the cute kind of crinkle.
II.
Sometimes, Michael cursed the fact he was roommates with David. It wasn’t that he hated David, it was quite the opposite. He could so without some of the other man’s habits. He hated the way that David would always come out of the shower dripping wet in nothing but a towel; he especially hated the way that David would walk around for thirty minutes in a towel as he searched for clean clothes.
It wasn’t fair. He signed up for a singing competition. He found a best friend. He wasn’t supposed to develop stronger feelings for that person. Friends were supposed to stay friends. He was supposed to love his wife, supposed to keep a promise he had made to her. He had plans--getting a bigger place to live, getting a puppy and maybe at some point having kids. David wasn’t in those plans, yet as the weeks went on, he knew he had to fit David in somewhere.
He blamed it on the stress. Blamed it on the fact he barely ever got to see his wife, let alone talk to her on a regular basis. He blamed it on David’s personality; his charm was a blatant character flaw. He blamed the producers that insisted they always be near each other in their pathetic excuse of choreography. It was American Idol’s fault; he reminded himself of this everyday.
He couldn’t ignore the change in David’s behavior. He wondered if his attempt at hiding feelings wasfailing; he wondered if David was disgusted by the assumptions floating around in his head. That was of course, if David had made any assumptions.
Michael rested his forehead on the wall, softly hitting his head against it every so often.
“You know, you are going to kill brain cells if you do that.”
“You know, you kill them when you smoke that pot too.”
“Uncool dude.” Jason grabbed his cell phone and left Michael alone. Seconds later, he heard another person enter the room.
“God, can’t a guy bash his skull in peace.”
“You okay, Mike?”
“Do I look okay?”
“No need to get snappy.”
“Sorry, Carly. I’m just... frustrated.”
“Wanna talk?”
“Have you ever faltered?”
Carly stared at Michael, her face contorted to show her obvious confusion.
“In a relationship. Have you ever faltered? Has there been that other guy you fell for, and you were absolutely killing yourself inside because what the hell can you do? You can’t leave your spouse for them! It’s crazy! This whole fucking thing is ridiculous.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Have you faltered? Is there someone on the side? How could you do that to Stacie?” Carly was beginning to regret walking into the room; she continued to stare at her friend not sure if she should be mad or concerned.
“Nevermind. Forget I said anything.” Michael slipped out of the room without another word. His cellphone remained attached to it’s charger; he didn’t bother calling Stacey.
III.
“Up for a game of football?”
“Your football or my football?” David looked up from a crossword puzzle at Michael.
“Seeing as you have no coordination, I’m going with my football.”
“I resent that!”
“Stop feigning hurt; you aren’t a good actor.”
“OH! Someone used a big-boy word.”
Michael snorted and kicked the soccer ball in David’s direction. “Let’s go, it’s beautiful outside.”
No matter how hard he tried--and he did try--he couldn’t ignore Michael. There was no one else in the house for him to talk to. Friendship took precedence once again; David pushed aside all his feelings hoping that they would eventually fade away with time. He’d scold himself for thinking it would be nice to run his fingers through Michael’s hair or if he ever watched the way Michael slurped his pasta. They weren’t cute; he was not attracted to his best friend in any way.
Each week became more draining; by the time Idol Gives Back rolled around, it was non-stop work. They were carted from one rehearsal to another; from commercial shoots to studio recording sessions. For the first time, David barely got to see Michael. They would fall asleep in silence, too exhausted to move their lips.
It wasn’t until performance night that David spoke up from his side of the room.
“I’m nervous.”
“About eliminations?”
“No about my goldfish.”
“Someone is a bit grumpy.”
“I’m freaking out over here. I was horrible. Too low in my range; too all over the place. Simon was right, I think I can be a bit pompous on stage.”
“At least you looked good.” Michael shrugged his shoulders.
“Ha, I liked that you brought back the ascot.”
The fell into a comfortable silence. “Hey Dave, don’t worry about it too much. Don’t need you in the hospital two weeks in a row, okay?”
“Well, I wouldn’t get the sympathy vote seeing as they’ve already chosen who is going home.”
“It won’t be you.”
“Back at you.”
David hated being wrong; he hated that he had lied to Michael. From the safety of the plush couches he watched as Michael sang his lungs out. As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, he was at Michael’s side.
“I’m sorry for lying. It shouldn’t have been you. It really shouldn’t have been.”
“What can you do? What’s done is done.”
“Mike...”
“Look, I live in this city. After press you’ll see me as much as your schedule will allow. Promise.” Michael wrapped his arms around the other man, “I won’t be far.”
IV.
A week of press and what seemed like a million interviews later, Michael was sitting on his couch, arm around his wife. He thought being home would make him remember the things he loved about his wife. Like the fact she used Snuggle fabric softener because Michael liked the bear or that she would bite his lower lip when kissing him. He smiled when she made chocolate chip pancakes and was happy she didn’t push him to find a real job like she had before he had made it the Top 24. Holding her in his arms as they fell asleep, his mind would wander. Worry lines adorned his face.
He didn’t care about how close Stacey was; all he could think about was how David wasn’t.
Pairing: Michael Johns/David Cook
Rating: R overall; PG-13 for now
Disclaimer: Don't own them; all for fun.
Summary: "As diverse as these situations may be, they do contain one common factor: social influence."
Author's Notes: All definitions are from Elliot Aronson's book, The Social Animal. Unbetaed. Thanks to everyone who has read this so far, I really appreciate all the comments. They make me smile.
proximity: one of the major factors in determining whether we like or love someone is their physical proximity. it is more likely that we will fall in love with someone who lives near us compared to someone who lives far away
I.
David was beginning to notice the little things about Michael. Little things that would make him crinkle his nose--in a cute, god why is Michael perfect kind of way; not the kind of crinkle you make after smelling something awful. Things like the way he’d make funny faces to make the other contestants smile or the fact his accent was thickest when he was just rolling out of bed in the morning.
David should not be noticing these things. David should not find them cute.
At night, he would stare at the ceiling and turn his head to the left every so often. He’d never rest on his side to watch Michael--it was creepy, it felt dirty. He’d sigh and continue to look at the plaster above his head. David forced himself to think about girls--ex-girlfriends, playmates, and Mandy Moore. Still, for some reason, in his day dreaming, Michael would always appear out of nowhere. Groaning, he closed his eyes hoping sleep would soon take over; his mind had other plans and would not stop racing.
Five feet separated them in the tiny room. He began to think he was going insane. He debated putting a curtain up to hide Michael’s bed from view. He wondered if a thin piece of fabric would help him forget the feelings he had developed for his best friend. No, it wouldn’t work. He turned over, back towards Michael; the other man let out a soft snore.
It wasn’t just the room, or even the apartment. The remaining contestants did everything together. Press conferences, rehearsals, commercials and meals kept them occupied. There was no escaping Michael. It seemed like every second was filled with Michael Johns; he was beginning to think there could be no David Cook without including the other man.
Alone. The thought seemed so foreign at this point in the competition. He sat alone on the couch, but there were people surrounding him; conversation filled the room with a constant buzz. He tuned it out, tuned it all out. Forget, forget, forget.
It didn’t work. Moments later, he was greeted by a familiar face.
“Up for some video games, ‘mate?”
He sighed in defeat, yet smiled at the other man. “Really, you mean to say, ‘David, will you please play so I can get my ass kicked.’”
“You sir, are going down today. I practiced my Pikachu moves all last night. Lightning action will annihilate your Kirby sucking thing.”
David ignored the images ‘sucking thing’ brought to mind and picked up the controller. As soon as he sat, Michael plopped himself right next to him. Thigh pressed against thigh, arm was rubbing arm. The touch was enough of a distraction to keep him from concentrating on the game he was playing. He would glance over occasionally; he’d notice the determination in the other man’s face, and the way the simple action of pressing buttons was making little droplets of sweat form on Michael’s brow.
“Yah, so I was right about that lightning action, wasn’t I?” Michael tossed the controller onto the couch and grinned at David.
“My controller's batteries are dying.”
“Yah, likely excuse.” Michael shot a sideways glance at David, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up with you lately?” Without even looking, Michael had brought them back to the title screen. He had also managed to turn off the TV by elbowing the remote.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Oh come on, out with it. You can’t keep anything from me.”
“Seriously Mike, it’s nothing. Just tired and stressed.”
Michael looked straight into David’s eyes; David noticed how even Michael could make the most common color look unique.
Michael did not believe the lie, “Whatever you say, man. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk. Don’t make me tie you to the bed and torture you all medieval style to get it out of you though...”
David begged his groin to ignore the comment.
“When I’m ready.”
Michael seemed satisfied; he got up from the couch and playfully patted the other man’s thigh. “I’m going to go call Stace. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”
Wife. David crinkled his nose as soon as Michael turned around. It wasn’t the cute kind of crinkle.
II.
Sometimes, Michael cursed the fact he was roommates with David. It wasn’t that he hated David, it was quite the opposite. He could so without some of the other man’s habits. He hated the way that David would always come out of the shower dripping wet in nothing but a towel; he especially hated the way that David would walk around for thirty minutes in a towel as he searched for clean clothes.
It wasn’t fair. He signed up for a singing competition. He found a best friend. He wasn’t supposed to develop stronger feelings for that person. Friends were supposed to stay friends. He was supposed to love his wife, supposed to keep a promise he had made to her. He had plans--getting a bigger place to live, getting a puppy and maybe at some point having kids. David wasn’t in those plans, yet as the weeks went on, he knew he had to fit David in somewhere.
He blamed it on the stress. Blamed it on the fact he barely ever got to see his wife, let alone talk to her on a regular basis. He blamed it on David’s personality; his charm was a blatant character flaw. He blamed the producers that insisted they always be near each other in their pathetic excuse of choreography. It was American Idol’s fault; he reminded himself of this everyday.
He couldn’t ignore the change in David’s behavior. He wondered if his attempt at hiding feelings wasfailing; he wondered if David was disgusted by the assumptions floating around in his head. That was of course, if David had made any assumptions.
Michael rested his forehead on the wall, softly hitting his head against it every so often.
“You know, you are going to kill brain cells if you do that.”
“You know, you kill them when you smoke that pot too.”
“Uncool dude.” Jason grabbed his cell phone and left Michael alone. Seconds later, he heard another person enter the room.
“God, can’t a guy bash his skull in peace.”
“You okay, Mike?”
“Do I look okay?”
“No need to get snappy.”
“Sorry, Carly. I’m just... frustrated.”
“Wanna talk?”
“Have you ever faltered?”
Carly stared at Michael, her face contorted to show her obvious confusion.
“In a relationship. Have you ever faltered? Has there been that other guy you fell for, and you were absolutely killing yourself inside because what the hell can you do? You can’t leave your spouse for them! It’s crazy! This whole fucking thing is ridiculous.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Have you faltered? Is there someone on the side? How could you do that to Stacie?” Carly was beginning to regret walking into the room; she continued to stare at her friend not sure if she should be mad or concerned.
“Nevermind. Forget I said anything.” Michael slipped out of the room without another word. His cellphone remained attached to it’s charger; he didn’t bother calling Stacey.
III.
“Up for a game of football?”
“Your football or my football?” David looked up from a crossword puzzle at Michael.
“Seeing as you have no coordination, I’m going with my football.”
“I resent that!”
“Stop feigning hurt; you aren’t a good actor.”
“OH! Someone used a big-boy word.”
Michael snorted and kicked the soccer ball in David’s direction. “Let’s go, it’s beautiful outside.”
No matter how hard he tried--and he did try--he couldn’t ignore Michael. There was no one else in the house for him to talk to. Friendship took precedence once again; David pushed aside all his feelings hoping that they would eventually fade away with time. He’d scold himself for thinking it would be nice to run his fingers through Michael’s hair or if he ever watched the way Michael slurped his pasta. They weren’t cute; he was not attracted to his best friend in any way.
Each week became more draining; by the time Idol Gives Back rolled around, it was non-stop work. They were carted from one rehearsal to another; from commercial shoots to studio recording sessions. For the first time, David barely got to see Michael. They would fall asleep in silence, too exhausted to move their lips.
It wasn’t until performance night that David spoke up from his side of the room.
“I’m nervous.”
“About eliminations?”
“No about my goldfish.”
“Someone is a bit grumpy.”
“I’m freaking out over here. I was horrible. Too low in my range; too all over the place. Simon was right, I think I can be a bit pompous on stage.”
“At least you looked good.” Michael shrugged his shoulders.
“Ha, I liked that you brought back the ascot.”
The fell into a comfortable silence. “Hey Dave, don’t worry about it too much. Don’t need you in the hospital two weeks in a row, okay?”
“Well, I wouldn’t get the sympathy vote seeing as they’ve already chosen who is going home.”
“It won’t be you.”
“Back at you.”
David hated being wrong; he hated that he had lied to Michael. From the safety of the plush couches he watched as Michael sang his lungs out. As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, he was at Michael’s side.
“I’m sorry for lying. It shouldn’t have been you. It really shouldn’t have been.”
“What can you do? What’s done is done.”
“Mike...”
“Look, I live in this city. After press you’ll see me as much as your schedule will allow. Promise.” Michael wrapped his arms around the other man, “I won’t be far.”
IV.
A week of press and what seemed like a million interviews later, Michael was sitting on his couch, arm around his wife. He thought being home would make him remember the things he loved about his wife. Like the fact she used Snuggle fabric softener because Michael liked the bear or that she would bite his lower lip when kissing him. He smiled when she made chocolate chip pancakes and was happy she didn’t push him to find a real job like she had before he had made it the Top 24. Holding her in his arms as they fell asleep, his mind would wander. Worry lines adorned his face.
He didn’t care about how close Stacey was; all he could think about was how David wasn’t.